Thomas And The Clock
by velja
Summary: Thomas Barrow finally follows Mr. Bates' advice, to try and be a little nicer. Let's see how that turns out for him and the rest of Downton as life goes on after the Christmas Special 2012. Spoilers for what happened there, be warned. This is a Thomas-centric story but no slash, at least I haven't planned it. But maybe something or someone will come along, this is a WIP after all.


**Thomas And The Clock**

_**Author's Note:**The timeline we got in the show doesn't fit my head-canon. Apparently there's one year between episode 3x08 and the Christmas Special but I think the Thomas-centric events shouldn't have that much time in between. I can't believe that it would take Thomas that long to figure out that he should start being nicer to the people he owes so much. But according to canon, that's what happened. I thought briefly about setting this story between 3x08 and the Christmas Special, but that would mean leaving out certain events I wanted to include (like Thomas being beaten up at the fair and also the newborn baby and Matthew's death). So I had to work with what we've got. I hope these ramblings will make sense in your head as well as mine._

* * *

**Chapter One  
**

It was the day after Mr. Crawley's funeral that Thomas went back downstairs to work full time again after having been injured. Yesterday Mr. Carson had already allowed him to serve at dinner following the funeral, albeit grudgingly and only because there'd simply been too many guests, so Thomas saw no reason to stay abed now.

The cuts and bruises on his face had faded and his ribs ached only if he bent the wrong way and to tell the truth, Thomas was simply fed up with doing nothing all day.

He wondered about that himself. Not two years ago he'd have been perfectly happy with getting paid for doing nothing, or as little as possible, but now…

Things had changed. And Thomas had changed with them. Or better yet, because of them. He could even pinpoint the exact moment that he'd started to view things differently. It had happened when people who'd had no reason to show him any kindness at all had done just that.

Thinking of kindness, Jimmy's name sprang first to Thomas' mind of course. He still couldn't believe that the young footman had agreed to leave what had happened between them in the past and was even willing to try and be friends with him.

But it wasn't just Jimmy's willingness to forgive and forget that had made Thomas change. That had only been the most recent in a chain of events that had forced his conscience to awaken.

It had all started last summer, when certain things had come to light and Thomas had found himself at his lowest point in life, ready to be tossed out on his ears with no reference and no chance of ever finding work again.

People had surprised him then. Mrs. Hughes for example had reacted not with shock and disgust like Thomas had been sure of, but with sympathy and the steadfast opinion that everyone deserved a second chance. Mr. Carson, although clearly not possessing the same open-mindedness towards Thomas' inclination, had been willing to overcome certain events, never to mention them again of course, and not only keep him in service but promote him. And His Lordship himself had fended off the police officers that had come to arrest Thomas during the cricket match. And not only that. Lord Grantham had really surprised Thomas with his casually dropped declaration that he'd known about Thomas for years and had seen no objection whatsoever as long as he got the work done.

If that was really his opinion. Thomas had no way of knowing for sure since he hadn't been present at the time and His Lordship hadn't mentioned one word of it to Thomas in person. Of course not. Private matters like these were only ever to be discussed with ones' most trusted servant. And that's what had happened, apparently, according to His Lordship's valet. Thomas only had Mr. Bates' word for it but he had no reason not to believe him.

And there it was, probably the biggest surprise of all. Mr. Bates and his role in last summer's events. Thomas knew for certain that if it hadn't been for Mr. Bates' interference, his prodding and probing until he knew the truth and had done something about it, he wouldn't be here right now. He would be nowhere, nobody, probably dead in a gutter somewhere.

Thomas owed Mr. Bates everything, he knew it. But what he didn't know was why Mr. Bates had done it. After everything Thomas had done over the years to hurt and even destroy the man, after all his scheming and plotting against him and everyone else that he'd thought in his way, Thomas was stunned beyond words by the kindness Mr. Bates had shown.

Stunned and ashamed.

The shame Thomas had only started to feel recently though. Apparently his conscience, that tiny little nagging thing that had been shoved further into the last corner of his mind by every hurt, betrayal and mistreat life had thrown at him ever since he'd been a child, hadn't been completely dead. Since last summer it had gradually stuttered back to life, like a bear coming out of hibernation. An almost lifelong hibernation it had been, but now, after days on end in which Thomas had had nothing else to do but think about all he'd had done wrong in the last ten years, its voice had become louder and louder.

Thomas couldn't ignore it any longer. He felt ashamed for how he'd treated Mr. Bates in the past, how he'd treated everyone. When he'd first come to Downton ten years ago he hadn't given people a chance to prove him wrong in what life had taught him so far: That it was cruel and unjust and that in order to survive you had to beat it at its own game. He'd done just that. He'd been nasty and spiteful and his natural ambition had done the rest.

And now here he was. He'd been given a second chance, no matter that he didn't deserve it, and for the last few months had done nothing to prove to the people kind enough to give it to him that he'd learned anything at all.

But no more. Things would change from today on. That Thomas vowed to himself when he made his way downstairs to the servants' hall.

Thomas knew that while the fences with Jimmy had already started to mend itself, he still had a long way to go with everyone else. The other servants didn't like him, hated him even, and with good reason. And yet some of them had stood up for him, had shown sympathy and kindness. It was time to start repaying them in kind.

Thomas knew he had to make amends to everyone. And he should start by following the advice Mr. Bates had given him one night. The exchange was still fresh in Thomas' mind:

_'The happy couple and everyone's so pleased for you. Can't imagine what that's like.' _

_'Perhaps you should try being nicer.' _

_'It's being nice that got me into trouble.'_

__But that hadn't been entirely true, had it? Sure, 'being nice' to Jimmy had been the start of his troubles then, but Mr. Bates hadn't yet known those particulars. He'd meant a different kind of being nice. The normal kind, the one that seemed to come naturally to anyone but Thomas.

Maybe he should try that for once? It wouldn't be easy, that's for sure. Thomas couldn't just flip a switch inside his head and turn on the charm like electricity turned on a lightbulb. Or, he could, but only his false charm, the kind he'd used on Daisy so many years ago to spite William. That had been a lifetime ago, hadn't it?

No, genuinely being nice wouldn't come easy. But Thomas was determined to try.

What he didn't know was, he'd get his chance sooner than he'd thought possible.

* * *

So far Thomas' first day back at work hadn't given him much opportunity to make amends, like he'd vowed he would. Breakfast in the servants' hall had been a quick and quiet affair. Nobody apart from Mr. Carson had even acknowledged his being back. The conversation had revolved around Lady Mary's poor state of health after giving birth to the new heir of Downton and losing her husband on the same day. She was likely to stay in bed all day.

When Thomas had asked casually if that was why Anna wasn't at breakfast, Mr. Carson had told him in no uncertain terms that while it wasn't any of his business, Anna wasn't there because Mr. and Mrs. Bates had asked for and had been granted a day off for private reasons.

Thomas had seen his chance to be nice and had volunteered to valet for His Lordship in Mr. Bates' absence. But Mr. Carson had shot him down, he'd tend to His Lordship himself.

So much for being nice and helpful. Like Thomas had feared, it wouldn't be easy. People would likely mistake it for ambition.

'Well,' Thomas thought for himself while on his way upstairs. 'Still have the whole day to come up with something else.'

Lost in thought he nearly ran into His Lordship in the corridor. But he managed to step back in the last second and let Lord Grantham pass undisturbed. He seemed to be lost in thought as well.

"Mr. Barrow," Mr. Carson addressed him as soon as he'd entered the breakfast room. "Leave it to me. His Lordship wants to have a word with you in the library."

Thomas frowned. "Why didn't he tell me so himself? I just saw His Lordship on my way in here."

The butler's face grew dark and his eyebrows rose. "Maybe because His Lordship already told me and didn't feel the need to repeat himself. Now, if you please, Mr. Barrow."

On his way to the library Thomas briefly wondered what His Lordship wanted him for. He hadn't done anything wrong lately, had he? Not likely, since he'd been abed until this morning.

Thomas entered and found Lord Grantham standing in front of the mantle. He still seemed deeply in thought and somewhat grim but then again, he had lost his son-in-law only a few days ago. The whole house was in mourning and looked rather grim these days.

Thomas cleared his throat. "My Lord, you wanted to see me?"

"Ah, Barrow, yes," Lord Grantham turned and he beckoned him closer. "I'd like you to have a look at this clock. It seems to be broken."

"My Lord," Thomas' gaze travelled from Lord Grantham to the clock on the mantelpiece and back. "Jimmy, that is, James, the footman, he's supposed to…"

Lord Grantham waved off. "James recommended to ask you, since you're apparently the expert on clocks."

"He said that?" Thomas' heart skipped a beat but he quickly squashed it down. However, he couldn't stop his mouth from forming a proud smile. Jimmy thought him an expert on clocks?

"He did," Lord Grantham nodded. "Your father was a clockmaker, wasn't he?"

"Yes, my lord," Thomas took a few steps forward. Lord Grantham moved aside to give him room and said: "Take a look at it, Barrow. Do you think it's saveable? Or can we throw it away at last?"

"I couldn't say, my lord," Thomas replied. "I mean, not just by looking. I'd have to open it, to examine the clockwork."

"Of course," Lord Grantham agreed with a sigh. "Take it downstairs and see what you can do."

"Yes, my lord." Thomas lifted the wooden clock off the mantle and turned away with a nod. It wasn't too heavy, it was a small clock after all. But he still had to hold it in both hands. When he reached the door Thomas hefted the clock under his right arm. "I'll have a look at it right now, my lord. And I'll let you know."

"Oh, don't trouble yourself too much with it, Barrow. Perhaps we should just… dispose of it quietly."

"My lord?" Thomas frowned. It almost seemed as if Lord Grantham didn't want him to fix the clock after all.

"I've never particularly liked it," Lord Grantham admitted with a shrug. "Might be because it was a gift from Lady Grantham's mother. But I can't just throw it away or she would know. That woman has the six sense."

"So," Thomas had trouble suppressing a smirk. "What should I do with it, my lord? Try and fix it, or…?"

"I suppose you should at least have a quick look," Lord Grantham sighed. "And then, perhaps in the presence of Lady Grantham, you come and tell me that it can't be fixed after all. How's that?"

"Very well, my lord," Thomas gave another short nod and left the library, a clock under one arm that he had no idea what to do with.

* * *

Later that day Thomas stood outside, alone and thinking, while taking deep drags from his fag. He'd deposited Lord Grantham's clock upstairs in his room for now, still trying to come up with what to do with it.

He wouldn't waste his time on trying to fix it if His Lordship didn't want it fixed. Which he obviously didn't. But he couldn't just throw it out either, for some reason. It was a beautiful clock, Thomas knew as much from one look alone, and it wouldn't do to simply toss it out, even if it was broken. As a clockmaker's son he'd been brought up to believe in the worth of such a beautiful piece of art, and throwing it away simply made his heart ache. Not that he'd let anyone know, ever.

So, what to do with the clock? The obvious solution was to try and sell it, make a bit of profit. But of course he'd have to repair it first. He wouldn't get much for a broken clock, not even a beautiful one like that. Maybe if he'd let it be known it had belonged to an Earl, surely that would get the price up a bit.

On the other hand, wouldn't that invite people to believe he'd stolen it? Which he hadn't, but still… Dealing with stolen goods was not something Thomas liked to be involved in, again. The thought of his black market disaster after the war still stung bitterly and he didn't like to be reminded of it, thank you very much.

He'd been a fool back then, hadn't he?

Anyway, this business now was different. The clock wasn't stolen. Lord Grantham had given it to him, to do with as he pleased. Not that His Lordship had said it as such, but… He didn't want it anymore. So, if it turned out easy to fix, Thomas had every right to sell it. Right?

"Right," he murmured to himself and threw the cigarette stump to the ground. "Guess that means I'll have to take a look at it after all."

* * *

The upstairs dinner that night wasn't very taxing, it was only the family and no guests other than the Dowager Countess after all. Thomas was sure that it didn't necessarily warrant an under butler to serve. Surely one butler plus two footmen would do. And it's not as if Mr. Carson would ever let Thomas serve dinner unsupervised, even if that's exactly what an under butler should be allowed to do when there were no guests. No, Thomas surmised, Mr. Carson would have to be half-dead with the Spanish flu again before he'd let Thomas take over, and even then only under severe protest.

So, as it was, Thomas served at dinner along with Alfred and Jimmy, and all under Mr. Carson's watchful eyes. They were on the main course when Lady Grantham suddenly asked:

"Robert, whatever happened to Mama's clock in the library? I noticed it's gone."

Thomas stood next to the buffet and looked at Lord Grantham for advise. If this had been his cue, surely His Lordship would make some sort of move, right? But His Lordship glanced only briefly in his direction before answering his wife.

"Oh, you mean the one on the mantelpiece?"

"Of course I meant the one. You know very well that it was a gift from Mama for our wedding," Lady Grantham scolded. "What happened? You didn't finally act on your dislike of it and had it thrown away, did you?"

"I never disliked it," Lord Grantham protested but he was quickly overpowered by Lady Edith and the Dowager Countess alike. "Of course you disliked it." "You said you hated it, Papa. Several times."

Thomas tried to keep a straight face through the exchange. He saw Mr. Carson look at him out of the corner of his eyes and had to bite his tongue not to smirk.

Finally Lord Grantham gave in. "Alright, I didn't like it. But I didn't have it thrown out. I noticed yesterday that it was broken and I told Thomas to have a look at it, that is all."

Now Mr. Carson's eyes weren't the only ones on him. Every head in the room turned towards Thomas at the buffet.

"Well then, Thomas," Lady Grantham spoke at last and turned to him with such a doe-eye expression that he couldn't be mad at her for addressing him by his first name like a simple footman. "Please tell me you were able to fix it?"

"I'm afraid I can't, my lady," Thomas replied. "Of course I am no proper clockmaker but I don't think there's anything to be done about the clock. I'm sorry, my lady." He gave a small apologetic bow and had to inwardly congratulate himself on his straight faced performance.

"Oh, that's too bad," Lady Grantham sighed sadly. "But maybe we should have it sent to a real clockmaker, just to be sure." At a sharp glance from her husband she quickly added: "Not that I don't believe in your abilities, Thomas, but… as you said, you're no clockmaker."

"I am not, my lady," Thomas didn't let his offence show. Maybe he hadn't learned the trade properly but surely he could tell when a clock was broken for good. Not that he'd looked too closely at the clock in question, mind you, but Lady Grantham didn't know that, did she?

Nevertheless he continued evenly: "And perhaps I'm wrong and a clockmaker in York or London will tell you differently. But His Lordship asked me to ascertain whether or not it would be worth the trouble and the money to have the clock fixed and my opinion is that if it's to be done it would cost a great deal more than its monetary worth."

There, that wasn't exactly a lie, was it? Thomas was very happy with how he'd played that. What Their Lord- and Ladyship would make of it wasn't his concern after all. If they wanted him to return it so that they could have it fixed by a proper clockmaker, well then… so be it. No harm done. If they didn't want it back, he could do as he pleased and sell it for profit.

* * *

By the time the upstairs dinner was finished, Lord and Lady Grantham had decided to leave the clock be and not have it sent to a clockmaker. Lady Grantham even suggested that it should be taken up to the attic. Thomas volunteered for the task of course, sure that in the end no one would care whether he'd taken the clock to the attic or anywhere else, and with that the topic was closed amongst the people upstairs.

Downstairs on the other hand Thomas found that the talk about the clock had only just begun. When they'd finished their servant's dinner and he was about to go outside for a smoke, Mrs. Hughes approached him.

"Mr. Barrow, do you have a minute?"

"Of course, Mrs. Hughes," Thomas put the fag behind his ear for later. "What is it?"

"I was wondering… step into my sitting room, would you?" She opened the door to her right and led him inside. "I don't want the wrong set of ears to hear us."

Thomas briefly smirked. Not too long ago, O'Brien and himself had been the only two people to be described as being the wrong set of ears. And now he suddenly found himself on the other side of the door.

But then Mrs. Hughes began to talk and Thomas forgot about everything else. While he listened to her he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Mrs. Hughes was the one with the wrong set of ears. How else would she know exactly what was going on in his head? And how else could she have come up with the perfect solution?

Of course it would all depend on His Lordship agreeing, but Thomas was positive, for the first time in quite a while, that getting Lord Grantham's approval wouldn't be a problem. Not this time.

* * *

**To Be Continued**


End file.
